


Practicum

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Humor, Interspecies Sex, PWP, Rare Pairing, Xenobiology, very minor but somewhat kinky implied obikin (just because)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: Anakin is responsible for his Padawan’s practical sex education. Ahsoka is not delighted…not initially, at least.Please note: Anakin is in his early 20s. I am unsure how old Ahsoka is here by comparison, probably mid-teens—the story has been marked “Underage” just in case. (Which of them comes off more mature, however, is definitely up for debate!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> “Practicum” takes inspiration from Star Wars fanfics that depict Jedi Masters as responsible for the sexual initiation of their Padawans. These stories usually feature either Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan or Obi-Wan and Anakin, and I like them very much, but they tend to be _very_ earnest. This is probably because the Master generally behaves like a responsible adult. So, I wondered: What if the Master in question is still an impulsive, stubborn, and occasionally angry—albeit well-meaning—man-child…like Anakin?

“Has anyone ever told you that droid parts are not a turn on?”

Ahsoka Tano and her Master, the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, glared blaster bolts at each other. The sex was supposed to have finished over an hour ago, and they had not even touched yet.

For all that a Jedi was not supposed to have possessions, Anakin’s Temple room was doing a remarkably convincing, not to mention disgusting, impression of a salvage yard. In addition to several piles of miscellaneous droid components belonging to at least a dozen different units, Ahsoka noticed a half-assembled archive dataport, a twisted speeder drive shaft, and a burnt-out starfighter proton cannon. Plastisteel crates stacked four high and two deep—contents unknown—lined the walls. Anakin was known for being very good at fixing things, and everything in need of fixing seemed to have made its way here.

Ahsoka was perched stiffly on the edge of the bed, the largest unobstructed expanse of free space available. Her bare toes traced nervous counterclockwise circles on the cool surface of the floor. Anakin stood before her, at a polite distance, his back resting against the door, arms crossed over his chest. Both Master and Padawan had already stripped out of their uniforms and donned long, loose undertunics designed expressly for comfort in private settings. Now, though, they seemed to have reached another impasse.

At least, she mused, he must have put away his tools for the occasion, so there was no danger of finding a stray drill bit stuck in a compromising location. But soft-focus lighting, pleasant music, fine food and beverage, or any of the other such things used throughout the galaxy to set an appropriate romantic mood appeared to be entirely beyond her Master’s capacity to prepare. It was like he didn’t really care about being her teacher. Or like he took her for granted and assumed they would simply waltz into his room and fall on each other.

Wrong. Once Ahsoka had realized the extent of his misapprehensions, her criticisms had flowed fast and furious. This was _not_ how she had imagined her first time.

“The Practicum can be held in your room if you would prefer, Padawan.” Anakin’s tone of voice made it abundantly clear that he was running extremely short on patience.

A moment’s consideration. She gave the bed an experimental bounce. “Nah. Your bed is nicer.”

It was true. A Padawan learner’s room such as Ahsoka’s was barely bigger than the narrow sleeping pallet she rolled out onto the floor every night. Knights and Masters, however, were allocated rooms in the towers which boasted large transparisteel windows and actual full-size beds. Idly, Ahsoka wondered if the Practicum was the reason for the commodious accommodations.

Of course, Jedi younglings and apprentices faced countless mandatory Practicums during the course of their training, ranging widely in subjects from public oral disputation to emergency first aid. But the one on interpersonal sexual relations, to be completed shortly after reaching reproductive maturity, was known in Temple parlance as _the_ Practicum, and most Padawans regarded the night spent in the intimate company of one’s Master with tremendous excitement and anticipation.

Most Padawans, that is. As far as Ahsoka was concerned, her Master rivaled a kick in the groin for innate sex appeal, and nothing about his slapdash attitude toward the evening thus far had done anything to inspire confidence or otherwise alter her judgment in this matter.

“I’ve already led troops to victory in battle. I don’t understand why this is even necessary.”

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Look, Ahsoka. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time out in the field, but the exigencies of war do not mean that you are magically exempt from ordinary educational requirements. You have been given two standard weeks of shore leave to catch up on lapsed studies. And as your Master, I have a sworn duty to—” 

“Did Master Kenobi guide your Practicum?” she interrupted.

Anakin’s shoulders tightened perceptibly, and a shadow settled across his brow. “If you would prefer a different teacher—”

“No! That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” Ahsoka rushed to clarify. By the Force, he could be so defensive and insecure. “You seem like the type who would have tried to wriggle out of it.”

Anakin blinked. “And why would I have wanted to do that?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and some of the tension seemed to ease from his body.

“You always manage to avoid unpleasant and embarrassing activities.”

“I found the Practicum neither unpleasant nor embarrassing.”

Well, well, well. How…unexpected.

“Was it a good experience?”

Anakin’s expression softened. “Yes. Obi-Wan always took his responsibilities to me seriously.” He smirked at the memory. “And my libido back then was out of control. It’s a miracle we both survived.”

Ahsoka shook her head, amused in spite of herself. Such a typical Human male, to be that unabashedly enthusiastic about sexual relations…

She took a deep breath. Maybe she was being too hard on him. He had undoubtedly expected her to behave as he had with Master Kenobi, and when she hadn’t done that, it had to have been confusing and hurtful. She felt a stab of guilt. Time to make peace?

“Why don’t you…” She hesitated for a moment as she considered the best way to make this proposal. “Why don’t you show me what the two of you did?”

“Umm…” Anakin looked confused. At least that was an improvement over pissed off.

“Okay, how did it start?”

“Huh? How did it…?” Sudden comprehension broke over Anakin’s face. “With a kiss,” he said like it should be the most obvious thing in the entire Galactic Republic.

“ _Then kiss me already_.”

He did. And he was remarkably good at it. Considerate, gentle, mildly flirtatious. Ahsoka felt a tingling that darted straight to her sex.

Careful not to break the kiss, Anakin sat down on the bed beside her. He eased her robe off and removed his own. With light pressure on her shoulders, he encouraged her to lie back on the bed…and then his lips and hands were everywhere, from the sensitive points of her montrals to the equally sensitive points of her breasts. Hmm. That was quite nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he worked his way down, kissing and caressing, past her sternum, below her navel, towards a secret place of moist heat—

Automatically, Ahsoka’s legs splayed open, hips canted upward, inviting—

Anakin stopped and pulled back. The fingers of his flesh hand traced lightly along the juncture between her thighs and groin. “Huh. That’s different,” he muttered.

Ahsoka’s eyes flew open. She took in the baffled line that had appeared on his forehead and groaned. “Master, _tell_ me you didn’t bother to read up on Togruta physiology…”  

“Don’t worry; I think I’ve got it figured out now.” In the time that it had taken her to mount that implied criticism, his face had returned to its former, confident placidity. He patted her hip reassuringly.

Then his mouth was on her, and she lost her breath. He licked a hot, wet stripe along the thickening length of her sex and guided it into his mouth, massaging with lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth until she was so desperately swollen and thick she thought he would surely choke. But he didn’t. Instead, he opened wider and swallowed her whole, the sensitive tip of her hitting the back of his palate as he bobbed his head up and down relentlessly, suckling her while humming his satisfaction.

His pace accelerated gradually, and before too long Ahsoka was thrashing beneath him, fisting the sheets and gasping as the pleasure intensified. Anakin had to lean into her with his shoulders to keep her down. Finally, pulses of fluid began to well up involuntarily from her sex and into his mouth, and as he swallowed hard, she was tossed over the precipice and into an almost painful orgasm. Anakin continued to mouth her sex with tender licks and massages as her muscles jerked, wave after involuntary wave, releasing her only after she had at last collapsed limp and boneless into the mattress.

“Good?” Anakin lifted his head from between her legs and flashed her one of his patented, shit-eating grins from across the sweaty expanse of her abdomen. He had pleased her, and he damn well knew it.

Ahsoka snorted and tugged him back up toward her so that they could share another lingering, deep-breathed kiss. She could taste herself in his mouth, and this realization made her press against him more tightly. A renewed thread of desire began to twist about inside of her. Anakin’s penis was already erect and depositing a trail of wetness against her leg, and she was inordinately pleased that bringing her to orgasm had aroused him as well.

“My turn?” she asked, once they had come up for air.

Anakin grinned even more widely, if possible, and rolled onto his back. Ahsoka positioned herself so that she was sitting crosslegged beside him.

She was well-acquainted with Human male anatomy from her studies, of course, but to look at her Master in this up close and personal way was an entirely new experience. He had hair, for example, and not just on his head. For a being like her, who had none, this was intriguing. There was a delicate layer of hair covering his limbs and thicker, springy hair of a different texture in the hollows beneath his arms. He also had a sprinkling of hair on his chest and surrounding his flat, brown nipples. Another trail of hair began at his navel and graduated into a soft nest of curls around his genitalia.

His erection was slightly curved and longer, heavier, than her own sex. When Ahsoka tugged on the shaft, the foreskin retracted completely, revealing the glans, pink and glistening. She traced the tip of one finger around the flared ridge of the crown and pressed the pad of her thumb against the frenulum on the underside, for which she was rewarded with a pleased sigh. A tiny bead of fluid clung to the tip; she brought her face close and sniffed. The scent was distinctively Anakin’s, smoky and pungent, but when she stuck her tongue out to taste she decided the salty bitterness was too unpleasant. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t attempt oral sex. Ahsoka massaged the shaft for awhile in compensation, rubbing up and down with the palms of both hands, and Anakin seemed to like that well enough—he groaned, a sweet, guttural, wanton sound.

Taking his enthusiastic response as further encouragement, she resumed her exploration. Anakin opened his legs of his own volition to give her better access to him. The soft skin of his scrotum felt delicate, a marked contrast to the firmness of the perineum immediately below. Then there was the tight pucker of his anus, ringed by another fine layer of wiry hair. Feeling suddenly daring, she pressed for entry and was surprised by how easily and deeply her finger slipped inside. His prostate gland was a swollen lump on the anterior wall. She tried pushing into it.

Anakin squeaked—squeaked!—and sat up on his elbows. Worried that perhaps she had gone too far, Ahsoka removed her hands from his body and folded them onto her lap.

“Uhh, maybe we shouldn’t do that,” he muttered as he maneuvered himself fully upright. “I didn’t think— I didn’t properly cleanse myself before—”

Anakin scratched his head and looked away; he seemed to have suddenly discovered something utterly fascinating on the underside of the wrist of his prosthetic arm. And was he actually _blushing_?

“I am very sorry, Ahsoka. I didn’t realize you would have the equipment for—”

“Master, did you think I wanted—”

“— _anal sex_ …?”

They’d said the words in unison. For several long beats, Master and Padawan glared at each other once more. Then, as if of one mind, they burst into bright peals of laughter, and the renewed tension that had been building between them dissipated.

“You’d actually let me do that?” Ahsoka asked with wonder, once she had found enough breath to form words. Of course she knew that Anakin was fearless. Why should he be any less adventurous—and fun—in the bedroom than on the battlefield?

“Why not?” Anakin shrugged. “I had to learn how to give myself an enema back when I was a Padawan preparing for my Practicum. It’s not a skill you’d easily forget.”

“You ‘had to’…? Wow, okay. And Master Kenobi, did he also…?”

Anakin’s even, deadpan stare said everything Ahsoka could have ever wanted to know (and more, to be honest) about enemas and the eminent Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Maybe droid parts aren’t so bad after all,” she said decisively and reached out for her Master to embrace him and nuzzle her nose against his neck. He knew it for the peace offering it was and reciprocated warmly, running tender hands up and down her back. Perhaps they had both managed to get a little closer to overcoming the stubbornness and pride that so often led to unnecessary disagreement and conflict between them.

Several minutes passed while they enjoyed simple, undemanding closeness. But eventually, Anakin, ever goal-oriented, brushed a lekku off of her shoulder and asked, “So, what would you like to do now?”

“Well…” Ahsoka extracted herself from his arms and leaned back against the pillows in order to give his question proper consideration. “I would still like to try intercourse. Vaginal, not anal,” she hastened to clarify. “I didn’t prepare for anal sex either; at least it seems we have that in common.”

Anakin ignored her rather weak attempt at humor and pursed his lips. “You know, I didn’t see a vagina down there.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Who was supposed to be teaching whom?

“Here, let me show you,” she said, lifting her sex into the palm of her hand so he could see it clearly. “The anatomy and external presentation of Togruta female genitalia is obviously similar to that of a Human male: It’s an organ rich in nerve endings and erectile tissue, and both urinary and reproductive tracts terminate at a shared opening here.” She indicated the tip. “This is also where a male inserts his penis during sexual intercourse.”

Anakin probed the moist opening with a finger, provoking a delightful shivery tingle. “I don’t know about this. You’re not small, precisely, but you’re only a bit more than half as thick as I am. Are you certain I’ll fit?”

Now he really sounded like a youngling. Ahsoka rolled her eyes again. “Look, penetration stimulates inversion.” She pushed her sex firmly onto his finger, and the moist, muscular walls moved along with it towards her center like a shirt sleeve being turned in on itself. Anakin was entranced by the sight of it.

“Why don’t we try it so you can see how it works firsthand?” she suggested.

Anakin removed his hand from her sex, rather reluctantly, she noticed, and nodded. “Okay, but I think you should be on top. That will make it easier for you to control the angle and speed of entry.”

It was an excellent suggestion, even if it did sound a lot like they were discussing piloting techniques. Anakin lay back on the bed so that Ahsoka could climb up and straddle his hips. He placed both hands on her waist to steady her and gave an encouraging smile. Youth had its advantages; they were both still completely erect. She grasped his penis, aligned it against her own sex, and _pushed_.

The stretch at her sensitive opening was almost painful, and the slide of it burned. Nevertheless, the blunt pressure of the hard organ inside of her had begun the inversion of her sex. She tried grinding down to speed up the process but was unable to make much headway beyond the first third of his considerable length. After several futile attempts, Ahsoka was starting to get frustrated.

“Whoa, slow down. You’ve never done this before. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Anakin admonished.

He urged her forward so that their chests were pressed together. Then he claimed her lips with his own. The kiss was both passionate and tender, so absorbing that at first she barely noticed the way he had begun to rock his bigger body underneath and against hers. Advance and retreat, advance and retreat, harder and then softer, the pressure building until her body began to surrender to his and, millimeter by slow millimeter, he claimed her virgin flesh.

The penetration was exquisitely pleasurable now, and Ahsoka moaned into his mouth, doing her best to meet Anakin’s rocking motions with undulations of her own. Encouraged, she felt him accelerate his pace, each lovely thrust of his hips beneath her a little harder, a little faster, until he was all the way in, her sex inverted completely, her groin crushed against the tangled nest of his pubic hair.

“Okay?” he asked, hands tracing soothing circles along the expanse of her back.

“More than okay,” she replied. Yes, definitely.

Ahsoka assumed an upright position, arched her spine, and began to ride him. When she lifted up off of him, her inner walls clung to his shaft, as if loath to let him go, and when she descended, she could take him in so far she was practically sitting on his scrotum. Tightening against him experimentally elicited a high pitched whine, and he lifted his hips in tandem to meet hers. Oh, that was very, very good. She had to grab his legs to maintain her balance after that. They synchronized their movements rapidly; the erotic sound of their skin slapping together again and again filled the room.

Then, so fast she barely had time to process what was happening, Anakin flipped her over onto her back and resumed thrusting. He pounded into her in earnest now, each frantic stroke bottoming out against her cervix and making her groan. His face was flushed, and he was sweating hard, honey blond curls plastered to his forehead.

“Aaahhh, Ahsoka… I can’t hold on… I’m gonna come—!” he whimpered between panting breaths as his rhythm became increasingly erratic.

“Yes, do it! Fill me up— Please, Master, I want to feel it!” She wrapped her limbs tightly around him and held him close. Good thing they weren’t reproductively compatible because, even if they were, she was much too far gone to care.

That was sufficient. Two more sharp, shallow thrusts, and Anakin froze against her, gasped, and began to ejaculate. It was absolutely glorious, feeling his buttocks flex wildly beneath her fingers as he filled her with pulse after heady pulse of warm semen, his expression crumpling as he lost control. Her Master really was beautiful like this, Ahsoka realized, so unrestrained and dazed by his own pleasure, and—

Oh.

Completion raced through her body like a burst of heat deep inside, sweet and aching. She clutched at Anakin ecstatically, distantly aware of her own moaning, wanting the comfort of his weight as her muscles surged powerfully under and around him. This second orgasm was different than before, more intense but also more drawn out, and she felt like she was floating. It seemed to go on forever. He continued thrusting gently as her pleasure unspooled, right up until the point that he was no longer able maintain his erection and his penis slipped out of her.

“Wow. Very wow,” she said and laughed tiredly. He laughed along with her and caressed her montrals. They shared another kiss.

The time immediately subsequent passed unmarked. They lay in bed side by side in the happy afterglow of their exertions, sweaty and replete. Ahsoka fingered her sex, enchanted by the way Anakin’s semen pooled and dripped slowly out of the now stretched, highly sensitive opening. The organ had reverted to its normal external presentation but remained engorged to full hardness. Anakin turned onto his side so that he could watch her touch herself. His blue eyes were dark with barely-disguised desire.

“I’d like to try having you inside of me sometime,” he declared. “There are no rules against a follow-up Practicum. What do you think?”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Ahsoka's genitalia is loosely based on that of the [female spotted hyena](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clitoris#Spotted_hyenas). Because why not?


End file.
